


Love and Other Bruises

by athousandwinds



Category: GetBackers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-12
Updated: 2010-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-08 21:56:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athousandwinds/pseuds/athousandwinds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Madoka is not a delicate person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Other Bruises

It was during the after-party for one of Madoka's concerts that Shido first heard it. Madoka didn't, she was sitting primly on a chair, trying not to kick her heels, while he was leaning on the back of it. He wasn't the only one; two flautists and one guy who'd been goofing around in a box for most of the performance had already proffered hors d'oeuvres and fled at Shido's glare. Her eyes were closed, but her face was tilted up towards him, where she knew he would be. Shido resisted the temptation to touch her hair. It had been heavily twisted and yanked into a complex arrangement and he suspected that Madoka nodding her head too vigorously would send it tumbling down.

"What a shame," Shido heard with ears only a touch sharper than Madoka's. "And she's so young."

"I went for the bad boy at her age, too," came another voice, low and amused. "She'll grow out of it."

"He does look a hellion, though," said the first person, nasal with disapproval. "I hear he was in a _gang_."

Shido's hands tightened on the back of Madoka's chair and she frowned, registering the creak of wood beneath his rough hands.

"Shido-san?"

"It's nothing," he said.

Madoka's eyes opened. The effect was disconcerting; Shido could not meet what felt like her stare, although he knew she was merely thinking. Eventually, she straightened and rose, taking one or two steps with deliberation, as she always did. It was in her nature to do everything with care. She put a hand out towards him and he slipped it through the crook of his elbow.

"Where, please?" she asked.

"I've heard worse," said Shido. Her fingers clenched on his arm, and he said, trying to soothe, "It's fine." It actually was. Madoka's face, unused to anger, was scowling hard enough to warm the cockles of even Ban Midou's heart.

Her expression resettled: this time into lines of quiet obstinacy. "We're going."

Shido shrugged. "Okay." He'd been bored all evening.

The car ride back was silent, with Madoka's fingers tight on his bicep. They barely reached round it, but her grip was still hard enough to hurt. Her delicate features were set and cold; the happy schoolgirl had vanished. Shido kept his mouth shut, because his tongue was dry and he could think of nothing to say. He could hear her breathing, and it was too controlled.

The car stopped and Shido got out first, walked round to open the door for her. She ignored his hand and felt in her bag for her keys instead; found them, found the lock and opened the door. She stepped inside and Shido paused, unsure if he would be welcome to follow. The journey home had been _really_ silent. But Madoka solved the issue for him.

"Shido-san," she said, in her quiet, cultured voice. It was tense with something he didn't understand and he waited in expectation of a fight. "Please come in."

He closed the door behind them and followed her up to her room, their steps muffled in the thick carpet. It was disconcerting, being inside a house – any house – but especially Madoka's, with her soft, rich furnishings and delicate, breakable treasures. On a table by her door there was a valuable vase of such fine china it was practically translucent and Shido gave it a wide berth. Probably Madoka would forgive him if he broke something, but he had a horror of her sadness. Her silence was bad enough; he felt on edge, twitchy, like he hadn't been since he left Mugenjou. The door of her bedroom clicked shut and Shido reached for her, prepared for her to flinch away.

She shoved him up against it.

"Um," he said, but then she was kissing him, pressing him hard into the door panels. His hands came up to her shoulders to push her away – _be careful_ – but nestled in her hair instead, finding the pins and pulling them out. Her hair spilled out over her shoulders, and her fingers were already working on the buttons of his shirt. He palmed her breast and she made a small sound of pleasure into his mouth.

It was Madoka who dragged him to the bed and pushed him down on his back. He let her do as she liked, not resisting even when her fingers dug into his sore bicep and she bit down on the flesh of his throat. He groaned and felt her knees clench into his sides as she lowered herself down. Her hair fell, sweeping his stomach as she leant forward, her palms pressed brutally into his chest.

"Shido-san," she said, in a voice so ragged it hardly seemed like hers. "Shido-san."

When they were done, she rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Shido thought of the bruises forming, blackish-purple blotches, on his arms and chest. His body was stiffening, sore, and he stretched out a little. It was pleasantly painful. "I don't mind," he said.

"No," said Madoka. She pulled away and sat up, rolling onto her knees beside him. No one else would have been able to see her in the darkness, but Shido sharpened his night vision. "I was angry, Shido-san, and I took it out on you." Her face was grave and unhappy and he raised a hand to touch her cheek.

"I don't mind," he repeated, and pulled her back down again.

The next day, Shido ordered tea at the Honky-Tonk because Madoka liked it. When he reached out for the steaming cup, his t-shirt sleeve rode up slightly, exposing the finger-shaped bruises high on his bicep.

"What happened there?" asked Ginji with frank curiosity. Everyone else was too polite, apart from the snake-bastard, who didn't care.

Shido touched them, half-remembering how, and smiled just a bit. "None of your business," he said, and put up with Ginji's complaining for an hour.


End file.
